Refugee
by GanHOPE326
Summary: His planet was being bombed to shreds. Now he just woke up in a new, unknown world.


Refugee

Daylo woke up startled. When he had lost consciousness, he had not expected to wake up ever again. The orbital bombs were falling all around him, and the heat was getting intolerable. Far off in the distance, he had seen the horizon brighten despite the sunrise being still far away, as the atmosphere itself was reaching its torching point and was about to engulf the whole planet in the fire of nuclear fusion. He still felt that last sensation - the small fingers he was clutching in what he hoped was a reassuring touch, fingers that already felt too cold, even as everything else was getting hotter and hotter.

"How are you, mister? Are you okay?"

He looked up. The voice and face belonged to a human child, but the planet was clearly not his own. He had never seen so many buildings, so tall, in so little space. He had heard the capital was like that - far off, in the core of the Galaxy. Far from the front and the war.

"I am fine." mumbled Daylo, as he got on his feet. The child looked at him with curiosity, as if he had never seen anyone of his race, or non-human at all - who knows, maybe he had not. He was young, and humans after all were the most common species in the galaxy.

"Where am I?"

"Hurry up, mister! It's going to start!"

Wherever he was, it wasn't a hospital. Being rescued wasn't out of the range of possibilities - but this? Just being left in the middle of the road on an unknown planet? Alone, without anyone to help, or tell him what had happened to his family?

Those cold fingers.

He grabbed the first passerby he could reach: "Excuse me! Where am I? Where is my child? Can I see him?"

"Your child? You lost sight of him?"

Daylo nodded. This was met with a somewhat disapproving look.

"Well, you look like you were going to the cinema." he said, glancing at his non-human features "Try asking at their box office. Maybe he rushed in and entered."

As he spoke, the human gestured vaguely towards a massive building next to them, in front of which a large number of people was queuing, and Daylo imagined that must be the 'cinema'. But as he looked at its gigantic front, he froze in fear and felt a rush of panic rising through his body. An enormous banner, tall and wide as many men, dangled from the roof and covered multiple floors worth of the building's height. On it gleaned that angular hexagonal symbol that always announced the arrival of the legions, the death, the destruction. Dead eyes of dark glass looked at him from the shiny white helmets of a thousand troopers marching in ranks; officers towered over them, and ships of the fleet zoomed in space in the background, the same shapes that loomed in the sky as the world was cracked to its core, and started burning, burning.

That had to be a recruitment center. Of course. This _was_ a core world after all. How he had ended up here he did not know - but if he wanted to stay alive, he had to leave, as soon as possible.

But not without his son.

Daylo walked towards the 'box office', as that man had called it, and as he slowly retrieved his calm he realized the situation might be somewhat different after all. Some things just didn't look right. He saw other posters - some big, some less so, but the faces, the uniforms, the ship models on these were different. These were images he knew mostly from the clandestine radio transmissions, and whatever bits of forbidden information passed through the political police's net. Yet these posters didn't look like propaganda caricaturing their subjects - everyone looked as martial and proud as their mortal enemies.

Also, the people queuing - some of them wore the garments of ancient and now forbidden religions. Other wore military uniforms - of _both sides_. And some of them at a first glance looked non-human, but upon closer inspection, were actually _humans in non-human costumes_. This was such an unprecedented notion to Daylo he did not quite know how to process it. He knew of humans who hated non-humans and humans who thought they were alright. Humans who wanted to _dress up_ as them were a new notion to him.

"Is something the problem?" asked the cashier, kindly.

"My child." Daylo mumbled "I need to find my child. He may have wandered inside - "

"Oh, sure." the cashier said, as she called someone else with a gesture "You will be accompanied and can look for him."

They went in. They walked through long stairs and corridors covered in colorful posters of people and places Daylo did not recognize and then entered a dark room. It looked like a projection hall - the population had gathered in one similar to these, back home, when they had received their first emergency training in case of bombing.

As they walked among the chairs, looking for a child that could be Daylo's, a booming, triumphal music played, and a scrolling text on the screen started summarily detailing some of the war's events. So after all this was just a gathering to hear the news from the galaxy - this much was familiar enough.

Then the terrifying scream of a ion engine roared in the room. No one flinched, but Daylo instinctively hunched down and covered his head, preparing for a strafe. He realized he was making a fool of himself almost immediately - that must have been part of the news video. Yet he had never heard that sound played so loud and clear, so life like.

In fact, the entire video was incredible. The cameraman must have been _crazy_. It was shot right from inside the battles, as if someone zipped around, on ground and in space, without regard for their own life, as laser beams cracked next to them and the bodies started rolling on the ground. It showed soldiers and leaders of either side without shame, sometimes even in moments that ought to be secret or private. It was amazing that someone could earn this much clearance with both and not be at any point caught and summarily executed as a spy by either side.

Then Daylo saw something terrifying. The dark, triangular shadows of the great fleet silhouetted over a brown, dried out planet.

 _His planet._

"NO!" he screamed, as if he could stop it, as if it had not _already happened_. Heads turned and multiple voices shushed him, annoyed. His escort looked uncomfortable too. But now Daylo could not tear his eyes from the screen. The bombs were falling, crashing on the world's cities. People screamed in pain as their flesh burned. He felt a sense of nausea, dizziness - he had to leave. But what about his child?

The documentary soldiered on, relentless. Someone - a leader of the opposing faction apparently - had been hiding on the planet. The bastard! He - he had _drawn it onto them_ \- now he could see it - they had never done anything _wrong_! It had all been a mistake! Here the video was showing it to him, where they were hiding. He wished he could go back, drag the asshole out from his rat hole, give him up for the firing squad to dispose of, and let it be done with him! But no, he could only witness it all again. They were running through the town - _his town_. He knew the place. It was the shop whose owner kept raising the prices of his moldy meats while he sold the good ones on the black market that was crumbling in ruins now. It was the local spaceport the one they were heading to, looking for a vehicle to escape. And that they were passing in front of, right now - that house.

That was _his_ house.

That was _him_ lying on his back as the bombs fell, the walls crumbled, the sky became redder and redder.

That hand he was clutching in his own.

That hand attached to a limb without an owner any more.

That was _his_...

He let out a scream that made his throat and lungs hurt, a scream that made him spit blood. The lights turned on, the movie stopped; there was a commotion. He was helped to get to his feet and led outside. People asked him what was going on; some looked irritated. Some pulled at his neck, at his skin, as if to remove a mask that was not there. They ended up stopping soon, puzzled and somewhat grossed out. He found himself hushed out and left alone outside of the dark room. Some people were still around, talking about what had happened, calling each other excitedly; others went back in. The sounds of the movie restarted; a mix of explosion, quirky music, and the occasional witty banter and laughter.

Alone, Daylo sat on the ground and clutched his head in his hands. He blanked out; could not think of anything any more. Where in the galaxy was this unknown planet - which knew such intimate details of the war that had destroyed his life, and yet cared so little - he could not imagine, nor how had he ended up here.

A child left the hand of his father who was too busy chatting and walked up to him. He held up something to Daylo.

"Don't be sad, mister. Do you want to see my toy?"

Daylo looked up. There it was: a perfect miniature of the man he had seen in a thousand images but never in person, from the black helmet, to the cape, to the breathing mask, to the mysterious sword that seemed to burn with the fire of a red giant. The most feared man in the galaxy, who had left destruction and genocide in his wake, reduced to a doll, a mere child's plaything.

"Thanks, kid." he said, his voice reduced to a whisper "It's real nice."


End file.
